


Girl Talk

by MirrorMystic



Series: Where The Lines Overlap [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Comedy, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 04:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: Give me attention / I need it now...Sojiro Sakura tries to talk to his daughter about relationships. And when that fails, well, he brings in the big guns.





	Girl Talk

**Author's Note:**

> _Give me attention_   
>  _I need it now_   
>  _Too much distance_   
>  _To measure it out, out loud..._
> 
> In which Futaba deals with touch starvation, awkward crushes, and the frustration that comes with being everyone's baby sister. I hope you all enjoy the read. ^^

_~*~_ _  
_ _  
_ Futaba and her father were not on speaking terms.  
  
Normally, that meant she’d be cooped up in her room, with the various ‘KEEP OUT’ signs speaking for themselves. But because she spent so much time in there anyway (it was, after all, where her computer was) just retreating to her room wouldn’t have the effect she wanted.  
  
Oh, no. Sojiro had to _see_ her ignoring him.  
  
That was how she wound up pouting on the couch, tapping away at her GameStation Portable, or GSP (Power to the Players), and when the doorbell rang, she didn’t move an inch.  
  
“Futaba, honey?” Sojiro’s voice drifted in from the kitchen. “Can you get that, please?”  
  
Sojiro was busy dicing carrots and onions for curry- homemade from scratch, thank you very much. He took a few more chops, before realizing that A) Futaba wasn’t talking to him, and B) he’d just asked his daughter with social anxiety to answer the door. He sighed, setting his knife down on the cutting board and stepping out.  
  
“Hello, Ryuji,” Sojiro said with the slightest of smiles.  
  
“Evening, sir,” Ryuji nodded, sticking his thumbs through his belt loops.  
  
“I assume you’re here to take my boy for a night on the town?” Sojiro asked.  
  
“We’re just grocery shopping, sir,” Ryuji smiled. “We were thinking of putting together a nice, home-cooked meal for my mom.”  
  
“Oh? What’s the occasion?”  
  
“No occasion,” Ryuji shrugged. “I just love her.”  
  
“Well, say the word, and I’ll lend you boys a hand. Or at least a pot or two.” Sojiro nodded, stepping aside. “Well, come on in. Make yourself at home. Futaba’s in the living room, although she’s not talking to me, for some reason.”  
  
“Kids, huh?” Ryuji grinned, kicking off his shoes and stepping inside.  
  
He made a beeline for the shock of red hair poking up over the back of the couch.  
  
“Hey, nerdling,” Ryuji said warmly, holding his hand out, palm-down, just above Futaba’s head.  
  
“Hey, jerk-off,” Futaba said sweetly, leaning up and nuzzling into Ryuji’s hand like a cat.  
  
“Whatcha’ playin’?” Ryuji asked.  
  
“Devil Hunter 6,” Futaba shrugged, tossing her GSP onto a cushion beside her. “It’s not the same when Ann and Shiho aren’t around.”  
  
“Ann’s in Harajuku today,” Ryuji explained. “Took the other girls shopping. Because if there’s anything Ann loves more than video games, it’s shopping, sweets, and her girlfriends.”  
  
“Where are _you_ on that list, you coward?” Futaba smirked.  
  
“Eh.” Ryuji shrugged, grinning. “I’m alright.”  
  
“Well, wherever she is, she’s not online,” Futaba grumbled. “It sucks. I hate dealing with PUGs.”  
  
“But pugs are adorable!”  
  
“ _Pick. Up. Groups._ ” Futaba rolled her eyes.  
  
Ryuji flopped down onto the couch beside her, bumping his elbow against hers.  
  
Futaba leaned into him. He was comfortingly warm. Years ago, she’d jump out of her skin if someone so much as touched her. Now, though, at least among her inner circle, she lived for that touch. It was as if, after breaking through the wall of her fear, years and years of need had come bursting through. She needed that touch, that warmth, craved it more than everything-  
  
...well. Almost everything.  
  
“I heard you’re giving your dad the cold shoulder,” Ryuji said.  
  
“He knows what he did,” Futaba grumbled.  
  
“Where’s your brother?”  
  
Futaba’s breath hitched. She frowned and pulled away slightly.  
  
“Don’t tell me that idiot’s still in the shower,” Ryuji continued, oblivious.  
  
“That idiot sure is,” Futaba muttered.  
  
“The bathhouse is just down the street,” Ryuji shrugged. “Guess he got tired of all the old man butts.”  
  
“Please don’t talk to me about butts,” Futaba squirmed. “They’ve been all I can think about ever since Makoto’s meeting.”  
  
“You know she put that chart up online?” Ryuji asked. “I mean, only we can see it, obviously, but she said it’s so any of us can update it whenever we need to.”  
  
“So when are you and Ann gonna do some _updating_ ?” Futaba grinned.  
  
Ryuji rolled his eyes. “Look, me and Ann, it’s… complicated-”  
  
“Cowards!” Futaba cried.  
  
“Oh, for- Would you get off me and Ann already?”  
  
“Is that an invitation?”  
  
“Dude. Don’t make it weird.”  
  
Futaba would have relished the opportunity to make it much, much weirder, but thankfully, Akira had chosen that moment to step out of the shower.  
  
He emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, already dressed to head out, a towel draped across his shoulders.  
  
“Hey, bug,” Akira said warmly, placing a hand on Futaba’s head. She squeaked.  
  
Akira’s hair was still, somehow, as fluffy as ever. His skin was perfect. His touch was intoxicating. His smile was lethal. God. He was so pretty. He was so pretty, Futaba hated him. She wanted to smush his face, he was so goddamn beautiful. She settled for punching Ryuji in the arm.  
  
“Ow!” Ryuji whined.  
  
“Be gentle with him,” Akira teased.  
  
“Why? _You_ aren’t,” Ryuji smirked.  
  
“Oh, _god_ , that’s hot,” Futaba blurted out. She clapped a hand over her mouth.  
  
“What did I just say about making it weird?” Ryuji asked. He let Akira pull him to his feet and snake an arm around his waist.  
  
“It’s about to get weirder,” Akira smiled playfully, his chin on Ryuji’s shoulder. Ryuji grinned.  
  
“Yeah,” Ryuji turned so he was facing Akira, pressing their foreheads together. He glanced at Futaba. “...Heh. Cover your eyes, kid. This is about to get graphic.”  
  
Something snapped inside Futaba’s head. And as Akira and Ryuji went in for the kiss, she balled her fists and stamped to her feet.  
  
“ _I am an_ **_adult_ ** _!_ ”  
  
The boys broke apart, staring at her. Futaba squirmed at having eyes on her, but it was too late to back down, now.  
  
“Stop calling me ‘kid’,” Futaba growled. “Stop treating me like a kid!”  
  
“Dad calls you ‘kiddo’ all the time,” Akira said.  
  
“Of course he does, he’s my _dad_ !” Futaba snapped. “ _You’re_ my-” Futaba hesitated. She let out an irritated sigh. “...friends. You’re my friends, but just because you’re all older than me-”  
  
“We _are_ older than you,” Ryuji offered.  
  
“One year!” Futaba said. “One year older than me! For Haru and Makoto, it’s two! But you all still treat me like I’m your baby sister!”  
  
Akira blinked. “But you _are_ my-”  
  
“ _Don’t you start!_ ” Futaba fumed. She stamped her feet in frustration. “None of you take me seriously! You all just treat me like a kid!”  
  
“That’s just not true,” Ryuji said.  
  
“Isn’t it?!” Futaba snapped. She pulled out her phone and shoved it into Ryuji’s hands. “What do you think of this photo of me, huh?”  
  
“Aww, you’re so short!” Ryuji cooed.  
  
“I think a darker green would go better with your hair,” Akira offered.  
  
“That’s me in a bikini, you numbskulls!” Futaba groaned. “I’m not a little girl! I have needs! What’ll it take for you guys to see me as a…” Futaba made a face. “...as a _woman_ ?”  
  
Ryuji choked back a snicker.  
  
“Don’t. Laugh.” Futaba said sharply.  
  
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry…” Ryuji said, sounding sincere. “...I just… I- I dunno, it’s just-”  
  
“It’s just a little hard to imagine,” Akira said, wincing.  
  
“Oh yeah?!” Futaba cried out, lips curling into a manic grin. “Ryuji, what did you think of _Nurses in Stockings 7_ ?”  
  
Ryuji scoffed. “Well, _7_ ’s not my _favorite_ . The series really hit its peak at- _OH NO_ .”  
  
“I can’t know this about you,” Akira grimaced. “We’re, uh, we’re gonna leave now.”  
  
“What, you can’t handle the truth? Well, I watch porn!” Futaba yelled, as Akira and Ryuji scurried out the front door. “You hear me?! _I. WATCH. PORN!_ ”  
  
Akira and Ryuji fled out onto the streets of Yongen-jaya, while Futaba channeled her anger into a frustrated shriek, stomped into her room, and slammed the door.  
  
~*~  
  
Sojiro stared at the, by now, intimately familiar sight of the closed door to Futaba’s room, plastered in police tape and ‘KEEP OUT’ signs. He sighed, before knocking on the door.  
  
“Futaba? Honey?”  
  
Nothing. Sojiro sighed again. He was no stranger to Futaba going non-verbal, but that was always much more difficult when there was a door in the way.  
  
“Futaba, dinner’s going to be ready in an hour or so. It’s, ah, curry again. I’m sorry. I know I’m a bit of a one-note cook.”  
  
Sojiro studied the grain of the wood. How many times had he tried to have a conversation with this door? He supposed he’d been spoiled, with how much time Futaba had been spending outside of her room, lately. Really, if it hadn’t been for Akira and his friends coaxing her out, helping her with her anxiety…  
  
Sojiro blinked. He knocked on the door again.  
  
“Futaba,” he began, “this is about the paperwork going through, isn’t it?”  
  
A pause. Then, as Sojiro sighed and was about to leave, he heard the click of the latch, and the door cracked open. He laid a hand on the door.  
  
“I’m coming in,” Sojiro announced.  
  
“I’m ready,” Futaba murmured.  
  
Futaba was sitting on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Sojiro tentatively held a hand just above her head. Futaba’s eyes were distant, still tinged with frustration, but she leaned into the touch, regardless. Sojiro sat down beside her.  
  
“Hey, bug,” Sojiro said gently, smoothing Futaba’s hair along her scalp. “I think I figured out why you’ve been mad at me lately.”  
  
“It’s because you’re an idiot,” Futaba grumbled.  
  
“It’s because I’m an idiot,” Sojiro smiled, sighing. “I should’ve figured this out sooner. Guy walks into your life, shakes things up, gets you out of your shell… sure leaves an impression, doesn’t it?”  
  
Futaba raised and lowered one shoulder, staring at the floor.  
  
Sojiro heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Futaba. I didn’t think. He’s like a son to me. I should’ve asked if he was like a brother to you.”  
  
“That’s not it, Dad.”  
  
Sojiro blinked. “It’s not?”  
  
“Well, it is, but it’s not all of it,” Futaba said.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
Futaba sighed, and kept staring at the floor.  
  
“Futaba,” Sojiro said gently. “If there’s something bothering you, I hope you know that you can always talk to me about it. Come to me with anything, and I’ll do what I can.”  
  
Futaba lifted her head. “Anything?”  
  
“Anything, kiddo.”  
  
Futaba took a deep breath. She turned, and met Sojiro’s eyes.  
  
“None of my friends want to fuck me.”  
  
“Oh, _god_ . Okay.” Sojiro pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m, uh… I’m gonna need help with this one.”  
  
~*~  
  
“Listen, girls, I appreciate you coming by on such short notice…”  
  
“Not at all!” Ann chirped, flanked by Shiho, Makoto, and Haru. “We were just on our way back from Harajuku. If there’s anything I love, it’s shopping, sweets, and my girlfriends!”  
  
“Where’s Ryuji on that list?” Shiho asked, smiling.  
  
“Eh, he’s alright,” Ann grinned.  
  
“Thank you, all the same,” Sojiro said. “I thought it’d be best if Futaba had this talk with girls her own age…”  
  
“We’ll handle it, sir, don’t worry,” Makoto said, ever practical.  
  
“We’ll take good care of Futaba-chan!” Haru beamed.  
  
“Thank you, again,” Sojiro nodded. “Well, then, come on in.”  
  
They shrugged their shopping bags onto the couch, Ann’s alone taking up most of the space. Makoto sauntered up and knocked on Futaba’s door.  
  
“Futaba-chan? It’s Makoto.”  
  
“Come in.”  
  
The girls filed in, one after another. Futaba buried her face in her pillow.  
  
“Oh no,” Futaba groaned. “ _Witnesses!_ ”  
  
Haru took a seat on Futaba’s bed, while Makoto, Ann, and Shiho all sat on the floor. They all knew, by now, that Futaba’s computer chair was hers and hers alone.  
  
Futaba was curled up on her bed, her face in a pillow, her knees against her chest. Despite her current status as a pillbug of despair, Futaba nonetheless let Haru pull her head onto her lap. She, like Ryuji before her, was comfortingly warm.  
  
“Futaba, your dad asked us to come talk to you,” Makoto said.  
  
Futaba groaned into Haru’s thigh, letting the older girl play with her hair. “How much did he tell you?”  
  
“Well,” Ann fidgeted. “Enough to know that you have an awkward crush-”  
  
“Ughhhhhhhh,” Futaba despaired into Haru’s leg. Haru quirked her lip in sympathy, petting Futaba’s hair.  
  
“Futaba-chan, what you’re feeling now is perfectly natural,” Makoto said gently.  
  
“Aki-kun is a good person,” Haru said. “I’m not surprised you have feelings for him. We do! We all fell in love with him a little, didn’t we?”  
  
“I did, while I was supposed to be undercover as his girlfriend,” Makoto said.  
  
“I did, while I was trying to avoid my ex-fiancee,” Haru said brightly.  
  
“I did. Ironically, it was while I was telling him how I felt about Ann,” Shiho offered.  
  
“Wait, really? I did, while I was telling him all about _you_ !” Ann giggled.  
  
“The heart goes where it will,” Haru smiled. “It cannot be forced down or held in place. That’s why we entered this arrangement, is it not? It’s why Mako-chan made that oh-so-helpful chart.”  
  
“Thanks, love.”  
  
Haru cooed, and blew Makoto a kiss.  
  
“The point is, Futaba-chan,” Shiho said softly, “your feelings for Akira are perfectly understandable. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all have feelings for him, in some form.”  
  
“Okay,” Futaba grumbled, “but none of _your_ idiot dads decided to _adopt_ him and make him your _stepbrother!_ ”  
  
There was a pause, as if the other girls were deciding whether or not to remind Futaba that Makoto’s and Haru’s ‘idiot dads’ were both dead.  
  
The moment passed. Futaba sighed and rolled over, stretching herself out. She looked up at the ceiling, clasping her hands on her stomach.  
  
“I just want him to notice me,” Futaba said, her voice small. Her lip curled with disgust. “...Ugh. That makes me sound like some doe-eyed anime moeblob.”  
  
“You want attention?” Shiho asked.  
  
“I mean _physically!_ ” Futaba blurted out. “I want him to want my body!”  
  
Makoto and Ann shared a look.  
  
“Futaba-chan, Akira already likes you,” Ann said. “For more reasons than your looks.”  
  
“Is it too much to ask for him to like my body, too?” Futaba grumbled. She slapped a pillow over her face.  
  
“Ugh, what can I do, anyway?” Futaba muttered into her pillow. “What do _I_ have to offer? All I’ve got are skinny legs, no tits, asthma, and astigmatism. Even Mishima has better hips than I do!”  
  
“Yuki _does_ have nice hips,” Shiho murmured. “I wonder if he’ll keep them after HRT.”  
  
“Wait, Mishima’s started already?” Ann asked. “Maybe he’ll finally get that mustache he’s always wanted!”  
  
“I’m so proud of him…” Shiho smiled.  
  
“Guys, focus,” Makoto said.  
  
“I look like a boy, is what I’m saying!” Futaba groaned. “If Akira wants to date a twink, then he can just keep dating Ryuji!”  
  
“What does that mean?” Haru wondered.  
  
“No no no, Ryuji’s a twunk,” Ann said.  
  
“I thought he was bi…?” Shiho asked.  
  
“Focus, people!” Makoto snapped. She sighed. “Futaba, you… you look beautiful the way you are.”  
  
“Oh, _please_ ,” Futaba said, sitting bolt upright. “That’s easy for _you_ to say! How am _I_ supposed to compete with Sergeant Domme, Secretly-Kinky Sugar Mama, Easy Breezy Beautiful, and Miss Student Athlete With Legs For Days?!”  
  
Shiho blushed. “A-Actually, I’ve decided to go into nursing.”  
  
“Great!” Futaba despaired. “A nurse?! Ugh, and I bet she looks _great_ in stockings!”  
  
“She does,” Ann said quickly, before Makoto elbowed her in the side.  
  
“I don’t know if I would say ‘ _Secretly’_ …” Haru muttered.  
  
“I hate it!” Futaba squirmed. “I hate all of you! You’re all just so fucking attractive it makes me want to scream! It makes me want to fucking punch something!”  
  
“Please don’t,” Makoto said.  
  
“Fuck! Why do I have to be such a dork, and why do _you_ all have to be so _amazing_ ?!” Futaba wailed.  
  
“Futaba, please,” Shiho said softly. “We’re really not all that. Take Ann, for example. For all her talk, you so much as peck her on the cheek in public and she becomes a flustered, gibbering mess.”  
  
“Yeah!” Ann chimed in. “And I mean, I know we all kinda think Makoto’s a stone cold badass, but then she says shit like ‘FISTS OF JUSTICE!’ She’s a _huge_ dork.”  
  
Makoto bristled. “...I’m not _that_ dorky.”  
  
“Oh, really?” Ann smiled and put a hand on her hip. “‘This hand of mine glows-’”  
  
‘- _WITH AN AWESOME POWER!!!_ ” Makoto cried, leaping to her feet. “Its _BURNING GRIP_ tells me to defeat you!”  
  
“Take this!” Shiho joined in. “My love, my anger, and _all of my sorrow_ !”  
  
“ _SHINING FINGEEEEEEER! GO! GO!_ **_GOOOOO!_ ** ”  
  
Makoto and Shiho squealed together. They threw their arms around each other and jumped up and down, giddy with laughter. Haru clapped a hand over her mouth.  
  
“Oh my goodness…!” Haru squealed. Ann’s cheeks were cherry-red.  
  
“These are my girlfriends, people!” Ann groaned, mortified. “I’m in love with these morons!”  
  
“You see?!” Futaba said, flapping her arms. “I want to do cute shit like that!”  
  
“You already do,” Haru smiled. “You’re like everyone’s little sister!”  
  
“ _But I’m_ **_not_ ** _!_ ” Futaba leapt to her feet. “That’s the whole point! That’s why my dumb dad called you guys here! _I am an adult!_ I have _needs_ ! And god damn it, _I JUST WANT TO MAKE OUT WITH PEOPLE!_ ”  
  
Futaba stood there, hands balled into fists, panting in the stunned silence. She swallowed hard, processing what she’d just said out loud- screamed out loud, in front of half of her closest friends, probably loud enough for Sojiro to hear out in the kitchen, even after she’d taken the time to soundproof her room. She felt everyone’s eyes on her, felt the anxiety as it began worming its way through her stomach.  
  
“Well, then,” Haru said, mercifully breaking the silence. “That can certainly be arranged.”  
  
“What?” Futaba breathed.  
  
“Mako-chan?” Haru smiled.  
  
Makoto blinked. “Um.”  
  
Makoto scanned the room, meeting everyone’s eyes in turn- Haru, Futaba, Ann, Shiho. Her lips curled into a smile.  
  
“...I’m sure we can think of something.”  
  
~*~  
  
“Futaba? Honey?”  
  
Sojiro knocked on Futaba’s door.  
  
“Dinner’s almost ready. All you girls are welcome to stay, of course, I always put on bigger pots then we need, ‘cuz then you can pack them up and they’ll last all week. Whatever we don’t finish, I can always take next door to the shop...”  
  
Nothing. Sojiro blinked, and knocked again.  
  
“Futaba? Makoto? You kids alright in there?”  
  
Still nothing. Sojiro reached to knock again-  
  
Futaba threw the door open so hard it banged against the wall. She shouldered past Sojiro and staggered into the living room in a daze, slumping down into an armchair. Sojiro blinked, glancing into the open room, seeing only the soft green glow of Futaba’s star stickers and hearing a chorus of hushed giggling.  
  
Sojiro followed Futaba into the living room, setting shopping bags on the carpet so he could sit on the couch. Futaba blinked a few times, before her gaze settled on his. She broke into a wide, dreamy smile.  
  
“Dad,” Futaba said. “I like girls.”  
  
“Well, this is… sudden,” Sojiro blinked. “So, um. Do you still have that crush on Akira?”  
  
“ _YES!_ ” Futaba wailed in despair, burying her face in a plush leather armrest.  
  
Sojiro smiled, and shook his head. “Listen, kiddo. I know it’s tough now, but, sometimes, you just gotta wait these things out. It’ll be awkward, sure, but… who knows? Maybe, one day, you’ll just… let it go.”  
  
Futaba lifted her head, smirking. “ _You_ didn’t.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Sojiro chuckled. “You’re gonna play hardball, are you? Well, two can play that game. Futaba, when I think about your mother... “  
  
Futaba gagged. Sojiro smiled.  
  
“... _god_ . _What_ a _woman_ .”  
  
“Ugh, Dad,” Futaba shuddered. “ _I never asked for this._ ”  
  
“Don’t growl at me like that, Futaba,” Sojiro muttered. “Who is that, anyway? Batman?”  
  
“It’s Adam Jensen, Dad.”  
  
“Was he the space cowboy?”  
  
“No, Dad.”  
  
Futaba smiled, leaning forward on the armrest, her chin on her crossed arms. It felt good to finally, y’know, put herself out there. Maybe it was just like Makoto said, about her dumb relationship chart- it was all about openness, and communication. Maybe if she didn’t want to be treated like the baby of the group, she just had to say so. And maybe if she still wanted people to give her head pats, well, she’d say that, too.  
  
“I’m home!” Akira called out, tossing his keys onto a counter beside a framed portrait of Wakaba Isshiki and a #1 Mom coffee mug. He came up the hall, meeting Futaba’s eyes. He hesitated; but then she smiled at him, and he smiled back.  
  
Futaba’s initiation into her circle of friends was a confusing mess of social anxiety, touch starvation, and arrested development. Maybe it was only natural she got a few wires crossed along the way, But she’d get through this. She’d figure it out. That was what they were all doing, wasn’t it? They were all just figuring it out?  
  
No matter what, they were family now, and Sojiro had the papers to prove it.  
  
Just as long as he didn’t do any stupidly cute shit-  
  
“Hey, bug,” Akira said, warmly. He put a hand on her head and sent a jolt of electricity through her whole body.  
  
“ _Personal space!_ ” Futaba shrieked. She jumped up, ran into her room, and slammed the door behind her.  
  
A moment later, the door opened again, and a confused Makoto poked her head out.  
  
Akira blinked.  
  
“Makoto?” Akira asked, seeing the girls peer out of Futaba’s room. “...Haru? Ann, Shiho? What are you all doing here? What’s going on?”  
  
“Well,” Makoto said, sheepish, stepping out into the hall. “Long story short: your dad asked us to come talk to Futaba, Futaba came out of the closet, and then you came home and she went right back in.”  
  
“Oh,” Akira blinked. “Okay. So, do you guys want to stay for dinner?”  
  
~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my first real entry in "Where The Lines Overlap" after "Logistics" set the stage. Each entry will be themed around a lyric or set of lyrics from Paramore's titular song- I may or may not do the rest of the lyrics in order, but, I digress. I hope I can hit a good mix of funny, silly, and sweet. Thank you all for reading!
> 
> Edit: Just in case any of you are too young to know the glory of Shining Finger Sword:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KXOCzB35kFY&


End file.
